


Ink me on your skin

by Nival_Vixen



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: BAMF Stiles, Complete, Confident Stiles, Derek Loves Stiles, Fluff and Smut, Inspired By Tumblr, Inspired by Photography, M/M, Magical Stiles Stilinski, Magical Tattoos, Mild Smut, Moving Tattoo(s), Pining Derek, Tattooed Stiles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 12:42:06
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,579
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1941522
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nival_Vixen/pseuds/Nival_Vixen
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles' spark of magic turns into a flame and he gets sent on to be trained by a local witch.</p><p>When Stiles returns months later, Derek doesn't know what to do with this confident and tattooed Stiles.</p><p>Thankfully, Stiles has a few ideas of his own about what they can do together.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Ink me on your skin

**Author's Note:**

> Inspired by [this picture](http://nivalvixen.tumblr.com/post/91531053987/when-stiles-spark-grew-into-a-flame-and-was-more) on Tumblr.

When Stiles' spark grew into a flame and was more than Deaton knew how to handle, he was directed to a local witch. (His flame was more than Stiles could handle sometimes, too, so he didn't blame the Druid for sending him on.) He was told not to stare, that Maggie worked as a tattoo artist, and to never ever call her Margaret; Deaton actually looked a little nauseous, and Stiles just nodded, thanking him for the warning.

So, he knew a little bit about her, and figured she'd have a tattoo or three, maybe even a full sleeve, but it'd all be New Age witchy stuff. Rocking up to the witch's house to find Maggie absolutely covered in tattoos - ones that  _moved_  at that - was definitely not what Stiles had expected. There were no occult or witch-like symbols, but instead, full on scenes of animals and rolling waves of the ocean, and okay, he forgot the first warning and just stared at her.

Maggie rolled her eyes. "You comin' in, kid, or I gotta drag you in by your teeth?"

Stiles blinked and followed her inside quickly. "With a threat like that, I've got to ask: do you know or are you related to Derek Hale by any chance?"

"Nope, nev'r heard of him. You're the Stilinski kid that Deaton's sent?"

"Yeah, Stiles. That's me. Uh, Deaton said you'd be able to teach me more about magic, help me get it under control."

Maggie laughed at that, and Stiles actually froze on the spot, staring at her, because her magic lit up around her. Stiles could see shit like that now, and this was the first time he'd seen  _so much_  of it. Even Deaton's aura paled in comparison to the pure brilliance of this woman's magic. He kind of wanted to touch it, which was probably weird, but he couldn't stop his hand from stretching out.

"Hey, hands back, kid. You don't go 'round touchin' other people's magic like that! It's rude. Didn't Deaton teach you nothin'?"

"I'm sure he tried to teach me more than I learned," Stiles admitted, giving a slight shrug. "ADD doesn't help with mental capacity."

"Nah, that's crap. You're just not learnin' right. C'mon, let's go to the back, I'll get you started, kid. First thing you gotta know: there ain't no way to  _control_  magic. It's something inside of you, and you need to let it out before you even think of using it again. That spark of yours is a flame now, but kid, I'm gonna make you  _burn_."

Stiles had kind of a bad feeling about that - him, things and burning? Not so good, especially in his life. Burning up, burning out, burning down, burning an innocent family to death ... yeah, you see where he's going with this. Not good.

Although, with Maggie's tutelage, he found that it wasn't so much as burning up or out or even down, it was a controlled burn, a way to let out the unnecessary power that had flitted to him, attracted by his initial spark, and accumulated over the years. If he'd tried anything big with all of that power attached to him, he definitely would have burned out in a few years, tops. Now, with the giant red flame reduced to a small blue one, hotter and more precise than the unfurling one before, Stiles could even  _feel_  the difference under his skin.

Maggie recognised that he needed visual stimulation to learn things and as an artist, was able to draw scenarios that looked so lifelike that Stiles could commit them to memory in mere minutes. (He wondered if she could explain maths in this way; there's no way he'd be able to forget how to work out the equivalent of X if it was a leopard stalking through his head or something.) After showing him how to complete a protective spell on himself, Maggie made him work without a shirt - it was far too expensive to replace all of the shirts he'd ruin, easier to clean anything off his skin, and with the protective spell, Stiles would ensure that none of the qualities of any spells or potions he created would actually affect him. Maggie even started using his body as a canvas to help explain what certain spells would do, thick slashes of red across his stomach for the internal combustion of a kidney, black to shrivel up a person's lungs, green to heal both internal and external wounds.

Maggie often had customers, people coming to get her artwork etched in their skin - as well as a spell or two to help with certain aspects of their life (not love, money, or anything to do with the dead; Maggie flat out refused and after hearing her horror stories as to why, Stiles completely agreed) - and as she was still training Stiles, Maggie opted to continue teaching him while she worked. She refused to stop, even though he fainted three times in a row, and eventually, Stiles got used to seeing needles and blood. He figured it was better than seeing them in a hospital in an entirely different manner, and eventually even started suggesting a few spells that she could work into the tattoos. Maggie never said he had stupid ideas, or scoffed at him, and Stiles felt bolder with his decisions, his choices, and his own application when she let him work a spell into a willing client.

"He's a trainee, but he's the best I've got, so if you don't want his spell, just lemme know," Maggie said to the client, patting the girl on the back.

"It's fine, Mags. Just make sure he does it right."

"Oh, he will," she assured the girl, and well, Stiles couldn't let her down, now could he?

He took a little longer than Maggie might have done, but he ensured that the spell was correct, and she checked over his work, nodding firmly and proudly at the application.

"Good thing you did, reducing the amount of physical beauty; it's still there, but it'll help her boost her self-esteem naturally more than convince others that she's pretty. Always a shame to see the gorgeous ones with such low esteem. We all get fat and wrinkly in the end, kid, even the blokes. Just live with it while you've got it," Maggie said, clapping him on the back.

"Right," Stiles said, grinning and still on an endorphin high from his first successful spell on an actual real live person.

"Now, don't think I haven't seen you lookin' at the books; you picked somethin' yet?" Maggie asked.

"Maybe. Still thinking about it."

"Don't go with the foxes, kid. They're not you, not really. You got your spirit animal yet?" Maggie asked, her hand stroking the golden-eyed panther on her upper arm absent-mindedly.

Stiles watched as the panther rubbed against her fingertips, and shook his head.

"You go concentrate on that. Tell me when you've got it, and we'll look at something for you then, okie?"

Trying to find his spirit animal was one of the harder things Stiles had to learn, mostly because it involved quietening his brain. And anyone that so much as  _looked_  at Stiles could probably tell that it was a difficult thing for him to do. Still, he practised every day, because there were times when he could feel the creature  _right there_ , and there were days when he desperately needed the solace of his own animal to talk to, and then there were the times he just needed something to connect to, something that was purely  _his_  that would understand him without a word spoken.

Days passed, Stiles concentrating on his spirit animal to the point where he didn't move a muscle for hours at a time. Maggie didn't interrupt him, which was unusual for her, and Stiles felt himself floating in and out of consciousness, his eyes closed and the world slipping away to nothing.

Stiles woke up suddenly, not knowing or caring how many days had passed, because all that mattered was that he'd  _found_  his spirit animal. And sure, the tiger had been waiting at the edge of the bamboo forest as if impatient, and it had been there all along and was just waiting for Stiles to arrive, but he'd finally found it.

He burst into the studio, grinning from ear to ear, and Maggie set down her sterilised equipment and nodded to the chair, not looking at all surprised.

"Sit down, tell me what you saw, and we'll get started."

Stiles did exactly as she said, the words leaving him in a rush, and by the end of it, Maggie had drawn his white tiger and the bamboo forest with such precision that Stiles just stared at it, nodding in awe. He didn't want a full back tattoo, knowing just how long they took, how exhausting it was, and not to mention how painful, and Maggie altered the artwork so it would fit directly on half of his back instead. Grinning, Stiles agreed and turned over to get started. He was grateful that he knew how to do his own pain-numbing spells. Stiles rested his head on his forearms and slowly started to work his own brand of magic and selection of spells into the tattoo as Maggie began.

...

Derek had no idea what to do with this new Stiles. He'd left for Deaton's one day, saying he had training, and then had seemingly disappeared off the face of the earth! No one had heard from him in months, not even his father or Scott, but any time Derek tried to question them about Stiles, they both seemed content and  _okay_  with the fact that he wasn't around. Deaton had eventually sat him down, told him to stop asking about Stiles and interfering with Stiles' spells, and to trust him. Derek found that he actually  _didn't_  trust Deaton, not really, but he trusted Stiles, so he just nodded, and let life continue on, not bringing him up to the Sheriff or Scott again. But now, Stiles was back in Beacon Hills and he was  _different_.

He not only looked different - gone were the long-sleeved plaid shirts and flailing limbs - but he  _smelled_  different too. Stiles still wore graphic tees and his hoodie, but he also seemed more sure of himself. He held himself in a way that demanded respect and demonstrated pure power, and he no longer smelled of hormones and emotions, but of a rainforest and the electric feeling that accompanied hot summer nights. Derek wanted to bury his head against Stiles and just drown himself in that smell. But he'd resisted the sweet scent of Stiles' hormones before all of this, so Derek told himself that he'd be able to resist this smell as well. Of course, that didn't stop Derek from hugging Stiles and  _lingering_  before Stiles pulled away from him to hug Lydia. He pretended not to notice Scott's expression as he looked between him and Stiles.

"Sorry to love you and leave you, but I've got to get home. Dad'll be finishing his shift soon," Stiles said, standing and hugging everyone in farewell, including Derek.

"I'll drive you home," Derek offered before he really thought it through.

"Okay," Stiles agreed, shrugging.

Derek nodded firmly and walked out of his loft without looking back. Stiles didn't bother trying to catch up, and Derek found himself sitting in his car waiting for a good three minutes before Stiles came outside. He was tempted to say something, to tell him off for making him wait, but Stiles stripped off his hoodie as he made his way over to the car, revealing the thin white tank top underneath. From what he can see, Stiles has half a tattoo sleeve up on his left bicep; large flowers that remind him of the rainforest smell. Derek's mouth goes dry and he can't actually think of what he'd planned on saying.

"Still okay to drive me home, big guy?" Stiles asked, grinning at him as he opened the door.

"Y-yes," he said, coughing and firmly telling himself to push the attraction aside, just as he always had.

Derek sneaked a few glances at Stiles while they were waiting at traffic lights or stop signs, and he tried to see more of the tattoo that was peeking out from under his tank top. Obviously, Derek telling himself to do something doesn't seem to be enough anymore. It isn't until he pulled into Stiles' street that Derek realised something important and he parked in the driveway, then turned to look at Stiles properly.

"Your father's working a double shift tonight; he's not back home until tomorrow morning."

"Yeah, I know. Thought I'd give you the chance to do something about this," Stiles replied, gesturing between the two of them.

"This? There is no... this," Derek replied nervously;  _what did Stiles know?_

"No, not yet. You want there to be, though, and if you come inside, there definitely will be," Stiles promised, grinning.

Stiles leaned over the gear shift, pulling Derek close and kissing him firmly, his tongue stroking up against his lips, before sliding inside his parted mouth. Derek actually shuddered when Stiles flicked his tongue against the roof of his mouth, and kissed him back eagerly. Stiles pulled away, grinning again, his gaze moving to Derek's mouth as he bit his bottom lip firmly.

"Don't make me wait too long, big guy," Stiles said, slipping out of the car and heading up to the house.

By the time Derek managed to wrestle himself out of his seat belt, turned the car's ignition off, and locked the car door behind him, Stiles had already disappeared inside. Derek went inside, closing and locking the front door behind him, and made his way up to Stiles' room. He found Stiles sitting on his bed with his back to the door, completely naked but for his tank top. Stiles grinned over his shoulder and pulled off his top to reveal his full tattoo.

The white tiger looked as though it actually was roaring its way through a bamboo forest. Then, before his eyes, the tiger padded across Stiles' back, curling up on the blank side of his skin.

"Pretty awesome, isn't she?" Stiles asked, grinning at him again.

Derek nodded and moved to join Stiles on the bed. He pushed him up against the pillows, covering Stiles' body with his own, and let the scent of the rainforest and electric summer nights wash over him until he could smell nothing but Stiles.

Stiles moved his head to kiss Derek, full pink lips working against his own until he was a pliant mess. It took Derek a few seconds to realise that Stiles had magicked away his clothes, and they were both naked.

"Could get used to that," Derek murmured, grinning.

"You'd better; this isn't a one-time thing, big guy."

"In that case, you should probably start calling me Derek."

Stiles raised his hips firmly, pressing his ass back against Derek's cock. "Nope, big guy still works for me."

Derek didn't even bother trying to reply to that, and just slipped down Stiles' body, past his sleeping tiger, and told himself that by the end of the night, he would have made Stiles scream his name at least once.

In this case, it seemed that Derek telling himself to do something actually was enough after all.

...

The end.

Thanks for reading!


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